


His, Hers, Yours, You

by rosebud_boy



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [4]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz watches Simon dream, Blood, Dreams, Fire, Lucid Dreaming, Snow, Vampire Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, ambiguous - Freeform, simon's dreams are a bit psychic ngl, vauge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:13:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21601915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosebud_boy/pseuds/rosebud_boy
Summary: Simon's dreams.
Relationships: Simon Snow/Agatha Wellbelove, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554379
Kudos: 23





	His, Hers, Yours, You

I’m surrounded by snow. It’s the sticky-wet kind, perfect to make snowballs out of. It’s melted through, so mud patches and dead grass are visible. 

There’s a house to my left, a farmhouse. It vaguely looks like one of the care homes I used to live in, but a voice in the back of my mind says that it’s Watford. The more that I look at it, the more I’m convinced. I know this place so well, it must be Watford. The voice also tells me that I’m dreaming, but I’m less persuaded by that idea. 

I push my hands out in front of my face to check. They don’t look quite the same as they usually do. I might be wearing gloves, but I can’t really tell. I think I’m also missing a finger or two, but I can’t keep track enough to count. They don’t seem like solid forms, more like general ideas. If I focus too hard, everything else surrounding me seems the same way.

Nothing feels permanent. I’m definitely dreaming.

I shift my gaze towards Watford, the tiny farmhouse surrounded by forest. I start to walk over to the building, but the door suddenly slams open and shut. 

It’s Agatha, pushing through the door. Her hair is vividly yellow and her emotions are just as vibrant. I can feel the fear coming off of her even from this distance. 

She’s running off of the porch and into the wood before I can even think about why she would be here. I try to keep track of her with my eyes, but she’s just a holographic blur of yellow and fear, so I run after her. 

My legs feel tied together, shifting weightily back and forth as I try to keep up. Agatha’s running so fast, I’ll never catch her.

I try to call out for her. “Agatha! Stop running!” 

I see her turn to look at me over her shoulder, but she doesn’t stop sprinting. The trees are blurs and outlines, nothing more than memories. I think I’m starting to go faster but it’s another thing I feel unsure about. 

“Agatha!” I yell out after her again. “Why won’t you speak to me?”

The fear hits me again, stronger this time, and I fall over. 

My hands start to sink into the snow, and I begin to panic. I’m stuck to the ground and can’t move. I see boots in front of my face. 

I look up and see Agatha, though it’s not really her. She looks more like Penny now, but when she speaks, it’s Agatha’s voice. 

“I have to run, Simon,” she says to me. I can’t see her eyes behind her cat eye glasses. “I have to run or he’ll kill me. Just like he killed her. I can’t die like that. I’m going far away.” She looks up behind me. There’s someone there. “He’s caught up to me,” she whispers. “I’m going far away and you can’t come with. You’re the Chosen One, you have to defeat him. You’re the only one who can.” 

I blink and she’s gone. 

My hands are free from the ground now, but I still can’t get up. I turn around to look at who she was pointing at.

It’s Baz.

He’s older, somehow. Not by much, maybe a year or two, but he’s not 16 anymore. There’s blood on his hands, so much that it’s dripping onto the snow, boiling it away. The steam wisps off of it and into the air. I know it’s my blood on his hands. 

Baz looks to me, sharp and angry. His eyes burn silver, the color of the sea or the moon or coins in the light. His mouth is drawn downwards into a sneer, and it’s just too full, the kind I’ve seen when he eats or when I’ve pissed him off too much. His hair is oil, dripping into the snow, mixing with my blood. 

“Why did you try to kill Agatha?” I ask him.

Baz shakes his head violently. “I’ve not,” he says. His skin is so pale. “It was him, not me. Step back, Snow.”

I’m on my feet now, and we aren’t in the snowy forest anymore. We’re in the catacombs underneath Watford. My blood has turned to red flames in his hands. I step forward to him. 

“Who is he?” I ask, my voice echoing through the tunnels. 

“Yours. Hers. Step back, Snow, I won’t warn you again.”

I step forward once more. He growls, and I think I see his fangs in the low light of the flames. “How is he Mine? Where do I step back to?” 

Baz is so close, I could reach out. I want to reach out, but something is stopping me. I suddenly remember I’m not allowed to touch him. 

The flames grow bigger and brighter, illuminating the catacombs even further. Baz snarls. “I don’t care where you step back, I just want you away. Run, like Agatha did. I don’t want you here. Not where I can still get to you.”

“Why?”

“I’ll kill you if you’re here. That’s just what I do.”

I’ve still got more questions, though. He’s the answer keeper. “Who is he? You said he’s Mine, and Hers. How is he Mine?”

Baz shakes his head. His fangs are full out now. 

“He’s not Yours,” Baz states. He look blurry around the edges the longer we talk to each other. His words make just as much sense as he looks. “You were His first. But she’s gone now. He got rid of her after you were Hers, and then you were His and then you were You. Now you’re here and you need to step back. I will kill you and I don’t want it.”

I step forward for the last time. The flames in his hand disappear into smoke, leaving us in the darkness. I’m not sure he’s still there, but I reach out anyways. His face is smooth under my hand. It’s the realest thing I think I’ve ever known.

I wake up with a start and a gasp. My eyes shock open to the sight of my dorm’s ceiling. The quiet serenade of crickets is the only noise besides my racing heart. 

I look to Baz’s bed. His hair is fanned out on his pillow. His eyes are closed and he’s buried under a mountain of blankets. His breathing is shallow, but I think he’s asleep. There’s no oil. No blood. No flame. Just Baz, sleeping calmly. 

I catch my breath and sit up. Lucid dreams are almost as bad as my nightmares, nothing makes any sense and it leaves me with a haunting emotion in my stomach. I can’t bear the strange feelings that come with them. 

Fat snowflakes spiral downwards outside our window, and it does nothing to bring my mind from the slushy forest in my dream. It’s cold in our room.

I lay back down, pulling my blanket up to my shoulders as I do. I turn to the wall and sigh, closing my eyes to try to rest again. I swear I hear Baz sit up or move drastically in some way, but I realise that I probably just imagined and he’s just shifted in his sleep. 

I listen to the steady sound of his breathing as I drift back off.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry again for the shorter installment, I was busy most of the day with Thanksgiving stuff and spending time with my family. This one was a bit trickier because I was trying to describe how my lucid dreams tend to go, but that's fairly hard to conceptualize into words, ya know? Lol anyways, I hope y'all enjoyed and had a happy Thanksgiving/random Thursday. :)


End file.
